


A New Life

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Following
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Glorious Denial of Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Carroll case, Ryan has to find a way to move on with his life. Will meeting Mike and Debra at the investigation hearings make it easier or harder?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Life

**Author's Note:**

> For The Following Mini Bang

There are two things on Ryan's bedside locker that he sees when he wakes up. 

One is a bottle of vodka. 

The other is a loaded gun. 

He stares at them, bleary eyed, for a long moment, considering. 

Then he remembers what today is, and more importantly that he's not at home. He's in a DC hotel and he has places to be. A quick glance at the clock tells him that he slept later than he planned - that never happens any more - and he curses quietly, swings himself into a sitting position and rubs his eyes. 

"Not today, guys," he says, shoving both bottle and gun into the drawer of the cabinet where they struggle to fit beside the hardback bible. "Not today."

A quick shower and a suit and tie later, he's on his way downtown to the first of the committee hearings. He's not needed today, isn't sure when they'll be ready for him and he can't say he's looking forward to it. Truth be told, until this morning, he wasn't sure if he'd even show up today - but he knows there's someone there who's going to need his support. 

She was there for him once - seems only polite to return the favour. 

He gets directions to the hearing room and when he gets there, he sees someone else had the same idea. 

Mike sits on a bench, hands joined and resting against his chin, elbows on his knees like he's praying, eyes fixed on the heavy wooden door across the hall. He's so intent on it that he doesn't notice Ryan coming, doesn't hear his footsteps until he's right beside him. He visibly startles when Ryan clears his throat but he gives a brief, tight smile, stands and shakes his hand. 

"Good to see you," he says and Ryan nods, glances at the door. 

"It's started then."

Mike nods, checks his watch, frowns. "She's been in there nearly two hours now." 

A muscle twitches in his jaw as he talks and Ryan gets the feeling he just wants to be in there. He feels the same way himself but, like Mike, as someone who's also on the committee's hit list, he can't be. It's true what they say - waiting really is the hardest part. 

"So, you saw her?" he asks. "Parker, I mean... before she went in." Mike is frowning at him as he asks and he shrugs his shoulders, feeling suddenly ashamed, like he should know the answer to the question already. "How is she?" 

Because he hasn't seen them - either of them - since the day Molly attacked him and Claire, and while Mike had reached out to him, at least trying to see how he was, Parker hadn't. Which he doesn't blame her for; she had her own stuff to work through, her own round of hospitals to visit and shrinks to see. He'd wondered, from time to time, how she was recovering, had meant to see her before she went into the hearings - time had just slipped away from him. 

"She's good." Mike's voice pulls him from his thoughts back to reality and Ryan looks at the other man, sees him nodding his head as he stares at the heavy wooden doors of the committee room. "She's really good." Something happens to Mike's face then, around the lips, like a twitch, a pull, and Ryan narrows his eyes, wondering if he's ok. It's a scandalously long few seconds before he realises that Mike is actually trying not to smile - it's been a long time since he's seen that. "She's... ah... she's pregnant, actually."

Though he suspects it's not meant to have that effect, Ryan feels like he's been doused over the head by a gallon of cold water and he feels his jaw drop as he stares - goggles might be more the word - at Mike. "Pregnant?" is all he can manage. "Parker?"

Mike nods again and this time the smile cannot be denied. It spreads across his face, lights up his whole countenance and even as Ryan's head reels from the news, it reels more from the sudden realisation that that expression can only be for one reason. 

"Yeah," Mike says. "Ten weeks, so technically, we're not supposed to tell people yet..." He rubs the back of his neck, chuckles with little humour but that grin is still there, barely being kept back. "I think she's gonna be pissed off with me for telling you." He tears his gaze from the committee room doors to Ryan's face and whatever he sees there has him frowning and tilting his head. It puts Ryan back on solid ground - this, finally, is a Mike Weston expression he's familiar with. "Wait, you mean you didn't know?"

Ryan shakes his head slowly. "Should I have?"

Mike runs a hand over his lips and Ryan hears him chuckle softly. "I knew I should have put money on it," he says so quietly that Ryan's fairly sure it wasn't meant for his ears. "We were seeing each other before the case," Mike tells him and Ryan blinks in surprise - for a seemingly crack profiler, he'd never noticed. "Cult siege gone bad, BAU and Alternate Religions were both there - Deb didn't run the unit at the time - but that was..." He pauses, as if doing the math. "...About seven, eight months maybe, before I met you. We didn't tell anyone when she was brought in to replace Mason because we knew one of us would be taken off the case if we did... I'd done my thesis, Deb knows cults, we were both needed..." He shrugs, glances at the door again before looking back at Ryan. "You really didn't know? Because Deb was convinced you'd made us..."

Ryan shakes his head again. "Must've been rustier than I thought, because I had no clue," he says and Mike looks very pleased with himself. "So... a kid. That's great, man... that's really great."

Mike is still beaming. "It was a surprise," he says. "Not gonna lie about that... but once the shock wore off..." His eyes take on a far away light, as if he's remembering something and Ryan waits patiently for him to come back to himself. When he does, it's to drop another bombshell. "I asked her to marry me."

From the grin on his face - which has actually grown wider, and Ryan would have sworn on a stack of bibles that that was not possible - Ryan doesn't need to ask what the answer was. He's speechless, but is able to clap Mike on the back, reach over and shake the younger man's hand. "I'm happy for you," he finally manages. "For both of you."

"Thanks." Mike looks more relaxed, more happy than Ryan's ever seen him and he quickly quashes the pang of jealousy that threatens to rise, the one that says if things had been different, if he hadn't been a noble idiot ten years ago, he might have been saying those very things about Claire; the one that says he could have been saying them now if it wasn't for Molly. Maybe something of it shows in his face though because Mike tilts his head, looks at him curiously. "How are you?" he asks. "Really."

Ryan blows a stream of air between his lips, looks heavenward for answers before settling on the truth. "Good days and bad days," he says frankly. "One day at a time." Mike nods and Ryan puts a hand on his shoulder. "Today's a good day though... Better than I was expecting it to be."

The grin returns to Mike's face and it's easier to return it than he would have believed, considering he's still shocked over what he's been told, considering where they are, what's ahead of them both. Mike may be having similar thoughts because he returns his stare to the door across the hall, crossing his arms across his chest as he leans back on the bench. Ryan adopts the same posture and the two of them sit there in silence until the doors swing open and Debra walks out. 

Mike is on his feet at once; Ryan is a bit slower because he's staring at Debra. She looks like hell, no two ways about it, and considering the last time he saw her she'd been buried alive, that's really saying something. Her face is pale and drawn, dark shadows under her eyes and she looks like she's ready to collapse. Not a huge surprise, Ryan figures - being raked over the coals is bad enough without being in the first trimester. A very faint smile lights Debra's face when she sees him getting to his feet. Then her eyes meet Mike's and Ryan sees her let out a long breath. She steps close to him and it looks for all the world like she's going to step into his arms, like he's going to let her but they both stop at arm's length from one another and when more people come out of the committee room, Ryan understands why. Walking towards the two of them, he hears Mike ask, "Are you done?" and his heart sinks when Debra shakes her head. 

"Lunch break," she says. "I've got ninety minutes."

Ryan doesn't know if that's going to be long enough to get her looking better but he figures it's worth a try. "There's a place down the street," he tells them. "Good food, quiet..."

"Let's go." It's Mike who speaks but Debra falls into step beside him without a word and the three of them make their way outside, Ryan leading the way. They walk in silence and when they get inside the restaurant, the hostess greets them warmly, ushers them towards a booth near the back. Ryan's standing beside Debra so he can't miss the look of panic that crosses her face but before he can ask about it, Mike speaks up. "Can we have one of these tables instead please?" He's pointing to the row of empty tables on the floor between the rows of booths and the hostess looks surprised but moves them without any quibble. The look on Debra's face is one of pure relief and Mike pulls out a chair for her, lets his hand linger on the small of her back as she sits down. 

There's more silence as they study the menu and it's Ryan who breaks it when he declares what he's ordering. Debra looks up, says, "I think I'll have the burger and fries," and Mike's reaction is instant. 

"Are you sure-?" He stops talking when Debra gives a look that Ryan has only ever seen directed towards him during the Carroll case. 

"She's eating for two, man," he says. "Let her order whatever she wants."

Mike is shaking his head before he finishes speaking and he remembers too late their earlier conversation. Debra's glare intensifies and she leans towards Mike, hisses, "You told him?"

Mike raises his shoulders and hands in an exaggerated shrug. "It just kinda came out," he tells her and to Ryan's surprise, and Mike's too if the look on his face is anything to go by, Debra's glare softens into a smile as she shakes her head. 

"I'm surprised you've lasted this long," she says, a teasing tone in her voice and Mike's cheeks darken. He looks like he doesn't know whether to be offended or embarrassed. Ryan's mentally telling him to take the out, and when Mike reaches over, closes his hand over Debra's, it looks like that's exactly what he's going to do. 

"I should have waited, I know that," he says and Debra's smile softens further. Ryan can practically see her shoulders relaxing and a couple of seconds later, she's smiling broadly over at Mike. 

"He actually told me congratulations are in order twice over." Ryan can't resist the words but this time there's no glare, no recriminations. There are only two smiles, two blushing faces. Just then, a waitress comes up and takes their order and when she's gone, Debra's face is its normal colour again. Ryan's glad to see it. "Congratulations, by the way," he says. "On both counts."

"Thank you," she says and she smiles in a way he's never seen her smile before. "And it's good to see you."

"How did it go in there?" Mike asks and when Debra shoots him another boss-like glare, he holds up his free hand. The other, Ryan realises, had disappeared from the table when the waitress took their order but he can see it, beneath the table, still holding Debra's. "I know you can't discuss your testimony with us, but..."

Debra sighs, shakes her head. "Pretty rotten," she says bluntly. "I get the impression I'm going to be reassigned to a corner somewhere, pushing paper for the next twenty years."

Ryan wants to deny it but Mike's worried frown matches his feelings exactly. He still holds the opinion that nothing happened on the Carroll case that Debra is in any way to blame for, but if the brass want a scapegoat, she's certainly the most convenient candidate.   

"On the bright side," she continues, looking over at Mike, "They don't seem to know about you and me. I'm sure being involved with a subordinate would have been pretty high on their shit list."

She's not wrong and Mike, wisely, doesn't touch that. "How are you holding up?" he asks instead and Debra grimaces as she shakes her head. 

"I've never been so grateful for a recess," she says. "I thought I was going to pass out a couple times towards the end there."

The lines on Mike's forehead deepen and Ryan blinks, surprised. It's not the kind of thing that a woman like Debra would admit to just anyone and Ryan finds himself wondering if she's forgotten he's there. Maybe Mike has too because he says, "You should tell them."

Debra chuckles mirthlessly. "And get hauled over the coals about that too?" She shakes her head, lips set in a resolute line. "Our relationship, our baby, has nothing to do with the case. You know that. They're not getting it."

Ryan's more than familiar with that tone of voice from a woman who's made her mind up. "I just don't like it..." Mike says and Debra shrugs. 

"It is what it is... I can handle it." She gives him a small, almost sad smile, tilts her head in such a way that Ryan thinks that if they were alone, if they weren't in public, she'd put her head on Mike's shoulder and let him hold her. It's strange, seeing that look on her face, seeing it directed at Mike and it reminds Ryan how much he didn't notice months ago, how much he missed. He thinks about that every day, albeit with different circumstances, and he busies himself with pouring each of them a glass of water. 

When he looks back up, the worried look is still on Mike's face but he's saying, "OK." Debra looks about as convinced he means what he says as Ryan feels but she doesn't call him on it, instead turns to Ryan and smiles. 

"How have you been?" she asks. There's obvious concern in her voice and it makes him shift in his seat. Here she is, having gone through hell, going through some more, and she's worried about him. 

"Good days,  bad days." It's what he's already said to Mike, all he's intending to say but something in those eyes makes him keep going. "I should have called... or something..."

Debra purses her lips, waves a hand dismissively. "I probably wouldn't have picked up," she tells him and beside her, Mike chuckles. 

"You wouldn't have," he says and Ryan's expecting a glare but Debra just gives him a knowing smile. 

"My social secretary." She tilts her head in Mike's direction, rolls her eyes at Ryan. "Had him busy for a while there."

Jenny had filled the same role for Ryan, so he knows what she means. "It's rough," is all he says and Debra leans back in her chair, crosses her arms. 

"You want rough? Wait til you're in front of that committee." It looks like she's shooting for gallows humour but it misses by a mile. 

"Hey, no committee talk." Mike leans forward, moving his chair a little closer to Debra's in the process. "There are other things to discuss... like the fact that I was right, and the super profiler here didn't know anything about us until this morning."

Debra does a hard double take, stares at him then when she's satisfied he means it, she turns an amazed stare on Ryan. "Guess we're better than I thought," she says and Ryan lifts up his hands in a shrug. At the tip of his tongue is the observation that they had other things to worry about at the time but he bites the words back - this is neither the time nor the place to remind them about that. 

"So do you have any actual wedding plans?" he asks, figuring that to be safer territory. If the look the two exchange is any indication though, he might just have walked into a minefield. Mike shifts in his seat as he looks at the table and Debra swallows hard. "Did I-" is all Ryan gets out before Debra stands. 

"Bathroom," is all she says and Ryan watches her go, watched until she disappears through the door, suddenly very aware of what happened the last time she was out of his sight. When he turns back to Mike, the younger man's brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched and he's staring at the door Debra just went through. 

Ryan raises one eyebrow. "Something I said?" he wonders, the words as much sarcastic as they are awkward. 

Mike gives him a smile, quick and humourless as he glances at him but then back to the door again. "We're in negotiations," he says and he catches Ryan's confused frown when he does another quick glance back. "I'd marry her tomorrow. I always would have, even before the baby. Before the woods, the case, all of it." He shrugs. "Deb's gun shy..." It looks like he's weighing his words carefully and he finally settles on, "Long story. Let's just say I know I should be grateful that I got her as far as saying yes."

Ryan hears the self-deprecation, just like he hears what's not being said. "But you want the whole thing."

"Not the whole big wedding thing," Mike counters. "Her, me, justice of the peace, I'm good with that. I just need to convince Deb." He takes a sip from his water glass. "But hey... we've got time."

Though he knows Mike doesn't mean it that way, the words sting anyway, a reminder of Claire, of what might have been. Ryan takes a sip of his water, does his best to swallow his jealousy with it. "She'll get there," is all he allows himself to say and Mike replies with a raised eyebrow that's half doubt and half thanks. Then he goes back to watching the bathroom door and Ryan doesn't miss the relief that darts over his features, the relaxing of his shoulders, when Debra comes back out.  

When she sits down beside Mike again, her hand finds his straight away as she gives him a small smile. Mike smiles back before he looks over at Ryan, says, "So, how's New York?"

He avoids mention of the new apartment but Ryan has to take a deep breath at the thought of it, of the reason for it. He tells them about the new job, that he's doing lots of walking, that he's meeting up with his niece once a week for dinner. 

He makes it sound like he's doing just fine. 

He doesn't mention the gun and he doesn't mention the vodka. 

He wonders if he's fooling either of them. 

*

To say Debra has not been looking forward to today is an understatement and the morning session lived down to every expectation she might have had of it. Lunch, between food and conversation and Mike's hand in hers, goes some way to refuelling her physically and mentally but she's still dreading the afternoon. Once again, she's not disappointed, with the afternoon session being, if anything, worse than its predecessor and when Debra finally emerges, the only bright spot she can find is that they are finished with her. Barring redirects and the final judgement, she doesn't have to go back into that room and between the relief that knowledge brings and sheer tiredness, she can barely hold herself up. She wants nothing more than to collapse against Mike but she knows she can't, and although she knows she shouldn't be, she's glad when Ryan refuses Mike's invitation to dinner. She's not in the mood for company right now. 

Mike walks beside her down to the parking garage, close enough to touch but not touching her. He opens the door for her, frowns as she slides in and rests her head against the headrest, closing her eyes. She hears the car door close, hears him let out a long sigh, then his hand closes over hers and squeezes gently. She turns her head towards him, opens her eyes with some difficulty and tries to smile. "I'm ok," she tells him and all he does is lift one eyebrow - he's not buying it. 

Nor should he, not when the first thing Debra does when they get home is sit on the couch and take off her shoes. The second thing she does is curl her legs up underneath her and fall asleep. 

The next thing she knows, there is a hand warm on her shoulder, a gentle squeeze. It's a familiar feeling, the way of waking her up that they've agreed on - months ago, they learned the hard way that waking her up suddenly wasn't the best plan. She blinks lazily, stretches, and the couch gives slightly as Mike sits down beside her. His hand moves from her shoulder to her cheek, pushes back a strand of hair and then lingers, knuckles stroking up and down. "How long was I out?" she mumbles, loath to move and she sees his lips turn up in a smile. 

"Not long enough," is all he says, helping her to sit up. The blanket that had been covering her, the one that had been at the end of the couch when she feel asleep, puddles on the cushions and his hand moves up and down her back. "C'mon, he says. "Dinner's ready."

He takes her to the table and she smiles when she sees the candles lighting there. Turning to him, she's ready to tease him about being a romantic but when she sees the look in his eyes, a cross between affection and worry, the words won't come. Instead she rises up on tiptoe, brushes her lips over his. "Thank you."

He grins but he looks pleased, one hand lingering on her belly. "Mama Weston's special hidden vegetable spaghetti sauce," he proclaims with a flourish. "Great for kids who won't eat their five a day, and pregnant women who can't face food."

He pulls out her chair and she drops into it gratefully. "I am so ready for this first trimester to be over." It's far from the first time she's said it but today it's said with special venom. 

"You've had a long day," Mike says. He chews slowly on a forkful of spaghetti and Debra knows his next words before he even speaks. "You don't have to come tomorrow, you know."

"Yes I do." Debra's response is definite, instant. 

"Deb, you can't come in," he reminds her. "You'll just be sitting there, waiting...  you might as well do that here."

He has her best interests at heart, Debra knows that. She just doesn't happen to agree with him. "Would you have gone for that if I'd said it to you last night?" she asks and when he suddenly finds the contents of his plate very interesting, she has her answer. She rests her hand on the table, palm up, and slides it across to him. "I'm going to be there," she says and he sighs, shakes his head in resignation as he closes his hand over hers. "Besides," she adds. "Looks like I'll have Ryan to keep me company."

Mike's lips twitch in the tiniest hint of a smile. "I didn't think he'd show," he says and Debra nods as she chews. 

"He doesn't look great," she observes. "You think he's drinking again?"

Mike shrugs. "He seemed ok this morning," he says. "I couldn't smell anything on his breath when we were talking..." He pauses. "But I know what you mean. He looks..."

His voice trails off and Debra fills in. "Sad."

"He's got that look you used to have when you thought I wasn't looking." Mike's words stun her and all she can do is stare. "The look like you thought nothing was ever going to be ok again." 

Debra swallows hard, reaches for her water glass with a shaking hand. "I didn't know..."

"Deb, I'm not trying to start something," Mike tells her, leaning across the table and squeezing her hand. "You've never talked about emotions easily... and I knew what was wrong, so why push?" He smiles and it looks like he means it. "I love you, Deb... and I know you love me. The rest..." He shrugs. "Is what it is."

He's echoing her words of earlier, she realises. "I do love you," she says. They're not words she says often, years of trust issues leaving a mark, but when she says them, they matter. 

"You've been better," he tells her. "The last four weeks." Since she found out she was pregnant, she thinks, and her hand goes to her stomach. Mike's gaze follows it and the grin that appears in his face makes Debra smile too. 

"A new start," she murmurs and he holds up his glass of water.

"I'll drink to that."

The next day, when she's sitting outside the committee room, hands clenched into fists, stomach churning, she wishes she'd taken Mike at his word and stayed at home. At least there she could sleep, or lie on the couch and rest, to say nothing of run to the bathroom without worrying about someone seeing her. Then she remembers the look on Mike's face when he'd gone inside, the look he'd thrown over his shoulder before the heavy doors closed behind him. She'd seen then the nerves that he hadn't let her see and she's glad she came. 

She's not sure how much time has passed when she hears footsteps approaching, heels loud on the marble floor. Her heart beats a little faster in her chest as she looks up and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees Ryan coming towards her. He nods at her as he sits down beside her and she gives him a little smile, looking him over with a practised eye. He actually looks better than yesterday; even his suit looks less rumpled and one inhale of breath assures her that vodka has nothing to do with it. She remembers in the penitentiary being able to smell the alcohol off him from clear across the room; today, with her pregnancy heightened sense of smell, there would be no hiding it from her, not at this proximity. 

"How are you holding up?" Ryan's quiet question makes her blink and she's startled enough, frazzled enough, that she's more honest than she normally would be. 

"My stomach feels like a washing machine," she tells him. "I'm not sure if it's nerves or morning sickness." There's a water bottle beside her on the bench and she takes a sip, trying not to notice that her hand is trembling. 

She hears a rustle of cloth and plastic and then Ryan is holding out something to her. "Try these," he says and she takes the small packet, blinks when she realises what it is. 

"You brought me crackers?" She can't keep the smile of amazement off her face and it only gets wider when she sees his cheeks darken. 

"I remember my brother, when my sister in law was pregnant... we were out for a beer one evening, he'd just come off shift, we were catching up, I was going to their house for dinner...  next thing, his cell phone rings and it's his wife, and she's telling him they're out of saltines and he has to pick some up on his way home... and by the way, he'd better be on his way home right now." He chuckles, eyes far away and lost in memory. "He was out of that bar faster than I'd ever seen him move and I think we had to go to three different stores before he found the right brand because the world would end if he brought home the wrong one..."  He chuckles again, shrugs his shoulders. "I passed a store on the walk here, made me think of that." He leans his head back against the bench, looks up at the ceiling. "Thought they might come in handy."

As he was speaking, Debra was opening the packet, nibbling experimentally at the edge of the cracker. When it went down easily, she kept on going and she's surprised to find that it did actually help. "Thank you," she says when he's finished speaking. "That was nice of you."

Ryan looks slightly pleased but he doesn't say anything, leaving Debra to narrow her eyes, stare at him and really look at him. "How are you?" she asks him and when he opens his mouth to reply, she silences him with a raised hand. "And don't give me any of that 'one day at a time' crap that you gave us yesterday. It's just you and me now. So... how are you?"

For a long moment, Ryan just stares at her and she thinks he's going to bluster or, worse yet, walk away. But then his shoulders slump and he leans back and his breath leaves him a long sigh. The sudden deflation hits her harder than she expected, makes her heart ache for him, and when he starts to speak it only gets worse. "I haven't had a drink since I woke up in the hospital," he tells her, "But I think about it. Every day. And that's not all I think about."

She doesn't ask - she doesn't have to. She knows that look in his eyes; she's seen it in the mirror. 

"So what stops you?" she asks and this time his chuckle has no humour in it.

"Hell if I know." He shakes his head. "Deeply ingrained Catholic guilt, fear... some last vestige of sanity.... I don't know." He stares hard at her. "What stopped you?"

Suddenly, she's very glad it's just the two of them. "Mike," she says simply and a small, sad smile lights his face. "I mean... I knew I loved him, even then. And I couldn't stand the idea of leaving him... of what that would do to him." Even if there were days when it was hard to get out of bed, harder still to look herself in the mirror. "And then...." Her hand goes to her stomach, amazement still the primary emotion, even after having four weeks to get used to it. 

Ryan's eyes follow the movement. "I take it that it was a surprise."

Debra laughs softly. "A shock. I never thought I'd be a mom." The image of her own mother dances through her memory and she pushes it away. It's still painful, even more now, but years of therapy and months of recent therapy have made things a little easier. "Never thought I'd want to be. And then I'm staring at these two pink lines... and suddenly it's all I want. And Mike..." She can't help the grin that spreads across her face. "I wasn't kidding yesterday; he was ready to tell the world that first night. He thought... we both thought... that it was a new beginning for us." Ryan is still staring at her and she's reminded of a Brooklyn loft, a mercy mission to stop him drinking himself into a stupor, to bring him back to the Carroll case. Knowing what she knows now, she wonders if she did the right thing that day. "I know," she says, injecting a self deprecating tone into her voice, holding up two hands. "Apparently, I do get sappy now. I blame the hormones."

Something flickers in Ryan's eyes and she knows he's remembering too. "You're lucky."

Debra's not going to disagree with him. "This baby... Mike... I have something to live for. You need to find that, Ryan. For your sake... because otherwise? He wins." She sees him swallow hard, look down at his hands. "Don't you let him."

He's silent for what seems like a long time before he looks up and nods. She thinks that's all she's going to get but then he looks her right in the eye and says, "Don't you let him either."

Debra blinks, narrows her eyes because she doesn't understand. Undaunted, he continues. "The kid... Mike. He loves you. I have no idea how I missed it up til now, but he does." That's said with an amazed little laugh and Debra feels her cheeks warm. "And I can tell... You love him too. After everything you two have been through... You deserve a happy ending." She stares at him, unable to speak, and he shrugs. "Apparently, I also do sappy." 

His lips are twisted in a smile that's only slightly teasing, mostly self-deprecating. It doesn't make it any easier for Debra to speak past the lump in her throat, though, and she has to swallow hard a couple of times before she can speak. "You deserve that too," she finally manages to tell him and all she gets in return is a shrug. 

"Maybe," he says, rubbing a hand over his chin. "Maybe."

There's nothing more to say after that and they sit in silence until Mike emerges. 

*

Unlike yesterday, Ryan declines the opportunity to go to lunch with Mike and Debra. He senses their disappointment, their concern (mostly Debra's - Mike's still too preoccupied with having to go back into the committee room in the afternoon) but he doesn't let it stop him, because he knows what he has to do. 

He goes back to his hotel, sits down on the bed and opens up the drawer of the bedside cabinet. 

He takes out the gun and the bottle of vodka. 

Then he walks to the lobby and finds the name of the nearest car rental place. 

A short taxi ride takes him there and he rents a car, drives out of the city and into the countryside where there are green fields for miles around, trees and bushes and a river rushing by.

For a moment, he's reminded of the Havenport woods and he pushes the memories away. 

The bottle of vodka makes a satisfying smash against the rocks at the edge of the river, while the bullets from his gun make small splashes as the river washes them away. 

*

He doesn't go back to the committee room that day, or ever. When it's his turn, he flat out refuses to testify and he thinks they might try to make them, but they don't. 

He moves back to New York, takes things one day at a time. He decorates his new apartment, varies his jogging route, meets his niece for dinner once a week. He takes a job teaching in a college, goes to AA meetings and reminds himself every night of what Debra said to him that day.  

Seven months later, his cellphone trills with a text message and he grins when he picks it up, sees the picture that Mike's sent. The baby, swaddled in pink, has big blue eyes like her dad, a shock of dark hair like her mom and a grin on her face that even at only hours old promises trouble in later years. 

Ryan can't wait to see it. 

He waits for a couple of days before he calls. Mike's giddy elation reminds him of his brother when Max was born. He sings the baby's praises, Debra's too, and when she takes the phone, Ryan can almost hear her rolling her eyes. 

"I'm surprised he answered the phone," she tells him, but he can hear her smiling too. "It's been on permanent camera mode."

"I'm happy for you, Debra," he tells her. "I'm glad you got your happy ending."

Her voice drops, like she doesn't want Mike to hear her. Or maybe for smaller ears to hear her. "What about you, Ryan?"

"I'm getting there," he tells her, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like it's true.


End file.
